


Sail On

by loki_dokey



Category: Original Work
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Historic, M/M, Navy, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Original Universe, Pirates, gay navy boys, possibly steampunk but not yet mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-03 00:36:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19452754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loki_dokey/pseuds/loki_dokey
Summary: A small peek at an original work that I've had stored away for years. Having had such fantastic feedback to my fandom works, I thought I'd see what people thought of my own characters.





	Sail On

**Author's Note:**

> I'm super nervous, you guys. 
> 
> I've never done this. 
> 
> Please go easy on me and my boys.

It wasn't unheard of to find members of the Royal Navy in Radana port. The place was crawling with scum, dirt and villainy, crumbling under it all as though every callous act pushed it closer and closer towards the fiery pits of hell itself. However, the ale was cheap and the sex cheaper, therefore it was a perfect place to unwind, particularly for those who knew that their gun would be reliable if trouble struck. The place was overrun; too many people compacted into one small fishing village. It seemed, in those dank streets, that feuds between the navy and those on the wrong side of the tracks were forgotten for a few fleeting moments. Adorned in unassuming attire, navy boys who walked the line between the two evils would sit and drink, enjoying the pleasures that Radana had to offer. The town was under the thumb of Scroath, a ruthless pirate who had taken to now ruling on land rather than on sea. She was rarely seen but her presence was clear at every slimy corner, in the blood-shot eyes of her goons. Their swords dripped with the blood of anyone who dared to go against her and their knuckles bled her name.  
  
At the end of a cobbled street, with ragged beggars in its dark outer corners and rats scuttling into its innards, a pub creaked with every dancing footstep and every slam of a metal tankard on the old oak bar. In one corner, a group of men were playing poker for hard cash. In another, a man was receiving pleasure from an exotic dancer who claimed she was from beyond the Dromos Isles. Those treacherous waters had themselves claimed many a seasoned captain. It was not a journey many made, or at least came back from unharmed. She ground down on his taut, grubby pants. His hands, black from labour and an obvious lack of hygiene, coveted every patch of skin and warm body part it could find. She, with her sharp teeth and dead eyes, laughed and moaned over the band's music. The keep behind the bar was wizened and didn't take kindly to those who couldn't afford their ale; he grabbed a boy by the scruff of his muddied shirt and punched him square in the jaw.

"Off with ya!" he barked, brandishing a gun in his left hand and a tankard in his right. "Think you can down a pint before payin' whatcha owe? _Disgraceful_."

A shot was fired. A hole in the floorboards between the boy’s legs was eyed by those surrounding him, including the culprit himself. With a hiss, he threw down some coins and darted out of the door.

"Careful, you might just scare all your customers away," a young man chuckled, leaning against the bar. The barkeep laughed and grinned, baring brown teeth.

"Only the damn pansies," he sighed with a smile, pouring the man another whiskey. "This place be goin' to the dogs. Scroath has a lot ta answer for for lettin' Radana get inta such a state."

"You mean it’s not already full of dogs?" the younger man asked with a smirk, taking a sip. "This place isn't exactly Merene."

The barkeep shrugged. "Its got its own charm that a city like Merene could never. This port is a North Star to these here scumbags." He gestured at those around them and began cleaning the dark wood of the bar with a cloth that had seen better days. "They all head this direction ‘ventually."

The young man nodded before sighing too and gazing about.

" _You_ look like you're waiting on someone," came a familiar voice from behind him. A hand landed on his back and he smiled, turning to see his best friend and colleague offer him a toothy one in return.

"Mate, I was beginning to think you'd never show."

"Ah," Vardis chuckled. "I was just.... _busy_." He tapped his belt and grinned, waggling his eyebrows. "I always have to see my best girl when I arrive in Radana, Morgan. You know that." Morgan rolled his eyes and tutted. Vardis sniffed. "You're just jealous."

"Jealous that your 'best girl' is a gross, forty-eight-year-old woman who reeks and hasn't ever brushed her teeth? Oh, yeah." Morgan grimaced and ran a finger around the rim of his glass. "I'm jealous."

"She _does_ keep clean," Vardis snapped, settling on a bar stool and beckoning over the barkeep. "At least I'm getting some and not being some abstinent wet blanket." He splayed his hands in the air after ordering his drink. “Scott Morgan - The Man with the _Bluest_ of Balls.”

Morgan laughed, grinning as he downed the rest of his whiskey. "I’m not going to apologise for not just sticking it in anything that moves. I’d much rather suffer."

At this, Vardis frowned before shrugging and gulping down his own drink.

"I have needs."

"Mmm," Morgan hummed, too focused now on the person who had just entered the pub. Someone, draped in dark robes and with a hood pulled low over their face, swept in. The door slammed shut behind them. People began to turn, watching them glide like a ghost across the floor towards a shadowy corner. There was a table there with someone seated at it already. They too were cloaked and Morgan squinted to try and get a look at their faces.

Vardis nudged his arm and nodded toward them. "Wonder who they're plotting to kill?"

Slowly, the music grew louder and the pub once again returned to its chaotic atmosphere. The people in the corner continued their discussion but neither Scott nor Vardis could hear their words across the noise.

"Oh well, we don't come here to police this shit hole," Vardis sighed, lining up shots of rum on the bar. He held a glass under Morgan’s nose. "We come here to drink."

Morgan smirked and took it. He tore his eyes from the shadows that lurked in the corner.

"Then let's drink." With that, they brought their glasses together before knocking them back. Vardis caught his eye, winked and smiled before wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve.  
  
Morgan smiled in return.  
  
*

"Oh _fuck_ ," Vardis breathed, grabbing Morgan by the arm as he almost fell. "I think we drank too much."

"You think?" Morgan caught his foot on a large rock and tripped forwards, almost collapsing and taking Vardis with him. "We are terrible people. Addison's gonna be _pissed_."

"When is she not?" Vardis cackled. He clapped Morgan on the back. "Anyway, we'll be fit as fiddles for work tomorrow. We always are. She'll never know."

They located their naval dinghy down by the docks and almost fell into the water multiple times as they tried to climb aboard. Eventually Vardis fell forward, taking Morgan with him. The two lay there awhile, giggling uncontrollably.

"Here's to another fun-filled adventure," Vardis cackled, staring up at the stars sparkling overhead. He located a bottle buried under some rope and sloshed the golden liquid around inside. "Ah! Still some left. Good, _good_ news."

"Give it here." Morgan snatched the bottle and gulped some down, spluttering a little with the fierceness of the alcohol. "Shit. If Addison gives me any kind of grief this time-"

Vardis rolled over and placed a hand over Morgan’s face in some strange attempt to silence him.

"Shhh. Worst case, I'll fish your body out of the ocean and give you a proper funeral on a beach surrounded by hot women."

Morgan huffed and placed a hand on his heart. "Oh _thanks_."

There were hushed voices drawing nearer and as Morgan glanced up at the docks, he realised it was the cloaked figures from the pub. Those who had lurked in the shadows, shrouded in mystery. He nudged Vardis and pointed them out. 

“Alec.”

Vardis turned his head and froze when he saw them. The pair of strangers stopped only a few feet away, but clearly thought they were alone. The two in the dinghy hunkered down and listened, trying to catch words or anything that would reveal the duo's intentions; they were too shifty to ignore.

"Is that English?" Vardis whispered, leaning closer to Morgan in order to try and hear better. His breath skirted across Morgan’s own mouth. He smelled like spiced rum and tobacco. He remained there for a few moments as he listened. "I've never heard that language before."

It was true. What they were saying and how they were saying it - the lilts, the accent, the words - were unrecognisable. Nothing about the language was in any way familiar.

"They sound pissed off," Vardis whispered, hand pressing down on Morgan’s chest for support as he made an effort to lean up and see better. "God dammit, I want to know what the fuck they're talking about."

"Mmm," was all Morgan managed because it was difficult to breathe under the friend’s full weight. Suddenly, Vardis’ hand slipped and the tip of the dagger he had hidden up his sleeve dug into Morgan’s ribs, causing him to yelp and curse loudly. The voices stopped immediately and footsteps thundered down the wooden jetty towards them. There was an all-to-familiar sound of swords being drawn.

" _Shit_ ," the two men whispered in unison.

"We need a distraction!” Vardis hissed. “Oh fuck. Oh fuck." His hand pressed down on Morgan’s wound to stop any blood flow.

"Perhaps just finish me off and kill me? Then I don’t have to deal with _this_ bullshit-"

"Shut up." And Morgan did because Vardis had pressed his lips against his. "Swear again," the younger man murmured. "It'll make it more believable."

Doing as he was told, Morgan let out a low, sultry " _fuck_ " . Vardis brought their lips together once again and they remained that way, closed mouths simply pushed against one another. But a warm feeling had come over Morgan and the shudders that ransacked his torso and groin led to his mouth slipping open ever so slightly, hot breath coming into contact with Vardis’ dry lips. Vardis froze for a split second, but the footsteps were almost on top of them. Stopping now would be futile. So, instead, he went with it and opened his own mouth, kissing Morgan deeply. Morgan’s hips bucked of their own accord and he suddenly found himself desperate for something he'd never wanted before

No. No, no. That was the rum talking.

Nevertheless, his hips rolled again, searching for something to push up against to relieve the tension that was growing down below in his pants. The strangers were above them now, and through a cracked open eye Morgan saw them looking down at the two men kissing in the dinghy. Morgan moaned to add realism to the act but found it came out slightly more real than intended. When Vardis’ tongue crept past his teeth, Morgan realised just how much he didn't want this to stop, which both shocked him and scared him. He'd always appreciated that Vardis was a handsome sailor but nothing... _nothing_ beyond that. The occasional dream but...everyone had those right?  
  
Dreams meant nothing.  
  
Vardis was his best friend. His ally on those open waters and in those run-down bars. The feelings of lust he was feeling were simply due to cause and effect. Morgan loved kissing. 

That was all.  
  
The figures moved away and Vardis breathed, putting a distance between them slowly. Morgan’s heart was pounding and he prayed Vardis couldn't feel it. Or anything else for that matter.

Morgan cursed himself. Vardis’ Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat.

"Well, that worked."

* * *

_Eight weeks later:_

It hadn't exactly been unexpected. 

Despite their disagreements, Addison hadn't been able to deny how worthy Scott Morgan was of a promotion. He had been working exceptionally hard, no doubt desperate to earn more money to pay for his sister. He was an expert at navigating and had proved on countless occasions how well he would fit into a leadership role. When he had been called to her cabin aboard _The Eden_ , he had almost presented himself as the perfect sailor. However, there had been a glimmer of nervous energy in his eye and apprehension had pulled at his lips. He had balked when she had named him ‘captain’; his pale cheeks had reddened suddenly and his brow had furrowed. He had questioned her, wondering why and how this had come about. She had noticed his feet shifting slightly, breaking form. She'd told him, frustrated as she had more to be getting on with than appealing to this boy’s ego. She had dismissed him as soon as she could before returning to writing a letter to Krann. The pirates had attacked three vessels over that week alone and procured a multitude of cargo. Eighteen deaths.

Addison had sighed as her pen had swept across the paper. Those responsible would be brought to justice. She would make sure of that. 

*

“Wow. _‘Captain’_ Morgan,” Harper said, testing the title on her tongue. It clearly had a bitter taste; Morgan knew that she'd been after the position. She smiled anyway, but it was tight and strained. “You drink way too much rum, so the irony of you being named after your favourite brand is priceless.”

Before he could reply and tell her that four other people had already made that joke before she had, a pint of ale landed on the table before him and Vardis patted him on the shoulder, squeezing it gently. Morgan smiled up at him. 

“Don't let her make you feel bad,” he announced loudly, glaring at Harper. “You’ve earned this. I'm not going to lie and say that I’m not more deserving of the captaincy but hey-” Vardis beamed as he collapsed into the opposite booth and shot him with a finger gun. “-proud of you.”

T’Gorra, who rolled her eyes as he used her knee to sit up, sipped at her drink. 

“Yes, very well done, _Captain._ ” She smiled warmly. “Just...can you please not get yourself into more mishaps than usual. You already get into enough.”

Morgan rolled his eyes, not particularly wanting another lecture from the doctor. 

“I won't rest until every pirate knows my damn _name_ .” Morgan swirled his tankard around and around, watching the bubbles spin. “I can't make any promises about any more...uh... _mishaps,_ Ria.”

He heard her sigh. He sighed back, visibly and noisily, making Vardis chuckle and Harper kick him under the table. 

“You're a menace,” the doctor hissed. 

*

_“Scott!” Lyara screamed over the roaring flames and splintering wood. Scott spun on his heel, catching sight of his younger sister backing towards the bow. A huge pirate, clad in fine clothes that were clearly stolen, was descending upon her with a wooden club. Lyara’s sword lay on the deck two feet away, glinting with the fires that were growing around them. Scott dove forward, sword in hand, desperate to reach her before -_

_THUD._

_Scott’s heart stopped and his hands grew numb. The sword in his hand fell to the floor with a clang. He watched, tears and fire in his eyes, as his sister crumpled to the floor._

*

“It’s a new model,” Addison stated as they walked down the docks of Merene. She placed her hands behind her back and took a deep breath of the salty air. “They say she’ll be the fastest in the fleet. They’ve entirely redone our original building plans and, I must say, it’s breathtaking what they’ve achieved.” 

Morgan nodded, trying hard to contain his excitement. Addison had reassigned him to a new ship. The newest, in fact. As she looked over the harbour, he allowed himself to do a tiny victory dance before returning to his professional self. 

“There she is,” Addison announced with a smile. He followed her pointing finger to the most beautiful boat he had ever seen. She was sleek, dark, enormous, and _his._

“Holy shit,” he breathed, and despite Addison’s glare of horror, she seemingly couldn’t help but let out a huff of laughter. She merely sighed.

“Indeed, Captain.”

They came aboard, and Morgan ran his fingers along the railings. There were countless people moving about the deck and no doubt many more below, getting things ready and polishing off. They were set to leave the following week and he’d use that time to select his crew. 

“As you can see, everything is practically perfect,” Addison said, peering up towards the helm before turning on her heel to face Morgan. “The crew are the best of the best in our navy. You're a lucky man.”

Morgan paused. “The crew has already been chosen?”

Addison cocked her head and raised an eyebrow. “Yes. This is the best ship this Navy’s got. Therefore it requires our most skilled recruits to look after her.” Addison eyed him curiously as he began to sweat. “Is that a problem, Morgan?” 

“No ma'am,” he replied instantaneously. “Not a problem at all.”

They stood there in a line, staring ahead as though they were enraptured with the ocean beyond the ship. Addison had been right - every person standing before him was the cream of the crop. He knew who most of them were but Addison introduced him to them nonetheless. He noticed Harper and T’Gorra, which whilst not a surprise was a huge kick in the teeth. Neither had told him that they would be joining him. Neither had told him that the crew had already been chosen. He’d been talking about how he’d take them with him. How they’d remain a family. He sucked in a breath, anger boiling up inside of him. And to top it all off?

Vardis was nowhere to be seen. 

That hurt him more than he dare ever let on.

Addison cleared her throat and began walking him along the row of sailors. “Captain Morgan, this is your crew. We have Lieutenant Angela Harper.” Harper nodded. “Captain of the Marines, Yasarise Volander. Chief Engineer, Quinn Altressa. Your Purser and expert fighter, Lorissa Talane. Boatswain, Adam Fisher. Sailing Master, William Wick. Gunner, Zachariah Nox. Doctor and surgeon, Ria T’Gorra. Finally, Helmsman, Vallo Tarth. They are the _best_ , Captain. There are also others but you will meet them in time. These are your team, your support. Do good by them.” With that, Addison strolled away to talk to the harbourmaster, leaving Morgan standing before his crew.

“Captain,” T’Gorra began, reaching out a hand towards him slightly. His lieutenant remained steadfast, hands behind her back and eyes locked ahead of her. Morgan glared at them. 

_Remain professional._

He cleared his throat and smiled broadly at his crew. 

The smile tightened at the edges.

“It’s an honour to meet those of you to whom I’ve yet had the pleasure. I’ve heard great things about many of you and I look forward to seeing you achieve even more aboard HMS Maelstrom. We have a week before we sail, so I am expecting you to be prepared and ready for departure on the scheduled date.” He began pacing, happy to have an excuse to move and give his tensed muscles some respite. “We will be aboard the fastest ship in the fleet. No doubt we will become a main target for many a pirate but they will never take the Maelstrom, or any one of us, alive. Do the uniform you wear proud.” 

With that, he turned and walked away as fast as he could, trying not to draw attention to himself. Exploring the ship could wait. He had more pressing matters to attend to. 

*

Vardis was pissed. Morgan winced as the younger man sniffed before downing his rum and ordering another. 

“It’s fucking bullshit,” he snarled, knocking back his next drink and almost shattering the glass as he slammed it back down onto the bar. “I’m the best fucking shot and swordsman this damned navy has ever had. No fucking respect for anything I do. I’m not recognised because I had a _fucking_ pirate queen mother. Stupid... _stupid._ Can’t be seen moving up the ranks because my name is fucking _poisoned._ ”

Morgan frowned. “You know that’s not true. Your family history has nothing to do with the fact that you haven’t been-”

“Well then, what’s the reason behind it? We were a _team_ , Scott.” Vardis sniffed again and glared out of the window. “Now I’m alone. _Again_ . I don’t know why I bother fighting for this goddamn navy when my abilities are shunned and I’m not even _considered_.”

Morgan didn’t know what to say. Right now, he was the most upset Morgan had ever seen him. 

“I’m happy for you,” Vardis said, standing suddenly. He abruptly turned around and stalked out of the bar, leaving the door swinging behind him. Morgan went to follow him out, but something held him back. Something told him that right now, Vardis just needed to be alone. 

*

It was with the anguish and sadness in his heart of the situation that Morgan found himself standing before Addison’s desk, chewing the inside of his cheek. 

“And to what do I owe this pleasure?” Addison said, not looking up from her paperwork. 

Morgan cleared his throat. “I am here to request an addition to HMS Maelstrom’s crew.”

Addison’s pen stopped mid-sentence and she paused before looking up into his eyes. “I’m sorry?”

“I am here to request that Alec Vardis of HMS Gorgon be reassigned to my crew, ma’am.”

At this, Addison frowned and stood, closing her eyes before taking a deep breath. 

“You recall what I said to you? About the Maelstrom’s crew being the best? That is how it shall remain. I won’t have anyone aboard detrimental to its purpose.”

A fire erupted inside of Morgan. “Detrimental?” he snapped, professionalism faltering. He reestablished his stance. “I’m sorry, but Alec Vardis is the best naval fighter I’ve ever had the pleasure of working alongside. He belongs by my side.”

“There are things you don’t know about that man, Morgan. His records are _not_ the cleanest.”

“All because he had a pirate for a mother?” He dared to lean forward, pushing his luck. Addison stalked around her desk and squared up to him. 

“That kind of past rubs off on a person,” she hissed. “You have no idea what he’s capable of. He’s lucky he was accepted into the navy. I wouldn’t have allowed it if I’d... _known_.”

“Known what?” Morgan swallowed hard. Vardis had told him everything about his past, right? 

“Let’s just say that you wouldn’t want someone like _that_ working on _your_ ship.” 

Morgan had heard enough. Addison had always held a grudge against all pirates, but even Morgan could accept that Vardis wasn’t one despite who his mother had been. He didn’t care for Addison’s lies. 

“Ma’am. If I cannot have Vardis on my vessel, I’ll hand the captaincy over to Lieutenant Harper and return to the Gorgon.” 

Addison threw her head back and laughed, almost falling over in the process. She gripped her desk for support and began to calm as she clearly realised Morgan was serious.

“You’d give up everything you’ve earned for someone you barely know?” 

Morgan nodded with confidence. “I’m the best you’ve got, Admiral. No one knows these waters like me. No one fights better. No one leads better. You’ve told me so yourself. All of the paperwork is done. If I walk away, the Maelstrom won’t sail for at least another month. The ceremony will have to be stalled and the crew potentially reassigned as they can’t _not_ work for a month. You’ll have to rearrange so much and deal with so much _shit_ .” Morgan let the word fall from his tongue, dripping with venom. “You’re tired, _ma’am._ Surely that _extra_ work isn’t worth it. Surely it’s easier to allow Vardis onto my ship and let me deal with him than all of that.” Stepping forward, Morgan splayed his hands on the desk, completely against protocol. “Right, Admiral?”

He had never seen her this angry. She was practically shaking with rage. 

“You think that your promotion allows you to speak to me like that?”

Morgan smirked, folding his arms. “Well, it certainly gives me _more_ of an ability to than before.”

The Admiral sat back into her chair, glaring up at him. She crossed and uncrossed her arms, eyes wild with anger. “You have _no_ right to demand things of me, Scott Morgan. But fine, do what you will with Alec _Vardis_ . But if this comes back to bite you in the ass? Don’t come running back to me with your tail between your legs. On your head be it. Oh, and do _try_ to act like a sailor of the navy and not some impudent child, will you?” She leant forward. “It doesn’t suit you.” 

Morgan said nothing. He simply turned on his heel and stalked out, furious that Addison would try to stop him from having Vardis on his ship because of where he’d come from. She’d had to have been lying about whatever shit she was trying to accuse him of. Vardis was a sailor through and through. He’d do anything for the cause. And even if he _had_ done something that he wouldn’t be proud of…

...It didn’t affect his professionalism now. Vardis was a member of the navy. 

He was no pirate. 

*

" _S_ _econd Lieutenant Alec Vardis_ ,” the very man himself crooned, grinning from ear to ear. “It sounds so beautiful. I can’t believe you managed to pull off this one, _Captain_.” 

Morgan laughed. “Nearly losing my job was probably how I managed it,” he said, gazing up at the Maelstrom. Vardis raised an eyebrow. 

“You’re joking.”

“Nope. You’re worth it though.”

There was a moment of silence. 

“I am? Why’s that?”

Morgan could feel Vardis’ eyes on him. His heart began to pound.

“It’s like you said before. You’re the best fighter there is.” 

Another moment of silence passed. Eventually, Vardis nudged his shoulder with his own. 

“Damn right. How long till we sail?”

“Two days.”

“Better get my life in order then, huh?” 

“Yeah.” 

The breeze whistled through the rigging and his Captain of the Marines, Yasarise Volander - or Reese, as she liked to be called - saluted them from above. The sun was setting on the horizon as the day drew to a close.

“This is going to be the real adventure, isn’t it Morgan?” Vardis murmured, patting him on the shoulder. His hand lingered there for a moment too long before it slowly ran down his back before eventually resting at the small of it. Scott swallowed.

“Oh yes,” he replied with a curt nod and a carefully steadied breath. “Our best one yet.”

**Author's Note:**

> *hides under a log*


End file.
